“May I help you?”

That crisp English phrasing surprised the daylights out of Sora. She turned toward the voice and found herself facing a tall boy clothed in a white cassock.

“Oh, hello.” Sora grinned her most disarming smile at the teenager, who looked about as angelic as acolyte caught nipping the altar wine.

A hand signal of the boy’s made the huge, growling animal lie down at his feet. He managed to clear his throat before saying very stiffly. “You may come in, Miss Kang.”

“You know who I am? Sora straightened, spying a large relief map on the wall behind the boy. She admired being more intrigued at that moment by the fact that the boy knew her name. “I don’t believe we’ve met, have we?”

“Words travels fast in the desert,” he said by means of explanation.

“Oh,” Sora nodded. “Well, I’m off exploring. Ali did say I should make myself at home and do as I like. Did I disturb you? This is a fascinating house. May I come in and look here too? Is the dog friendly? Is it a wolfhound? Looks Russian to me. Slavic cheekbones.”

Dark eyes behind black-framed glasses seemed to study Sora with the quizzical interest of a biology student probing a specimen pinned to a lab tray. The youth titled his head to the right.

Sora thought that gesture was a trifle familiar. Self-consciously, she tugged at the hem of her shirt and smoothed a wrinkle out of the native skirt, which was too short for her tall frame.

“You may enter,” the boy finally answered.

My, he’s just a baby, Sora realized. A baby predator, she amended when she saw his gleaming eyes make an outrageous sweep down her body. His eyes riveted to her unbound s.

So let him look, she thought, knowing that she couldn’t stop the poor child from ogling if need be. She popped inside the large room before he could come to his sense and deny her access. Sora deliberately twitched the fold of the wraparound skirt where it closed over her knees. She needed information and didn’t care what means she used to get it.

The large room was definitely an office. It opened into a conference room and several rooms beyond. A desk squatted low on the floor and supported a computer. There was a black telephone on a credenza where the boy stood holding a fax in hand. A fax machine!

Kyuhyun Haaris gaped at the woman, astonished. Her unbound hair hang loose and flowing down her hips. A finely embroidered, tucked blouse rode loosely over a blue shirt. The deep scoop of the blouse’s neckline exposed the golden skin of a throat as slender as a reed and swell of rounded too exquisite for words.

The trouble was, her gauzy cotton shirt was meant to be an undergarment. He swallowed. Kyuhyun had heard rumours about the woman his eldest brother had sequestered, but had not dreamed he would actually see her. Leeteuk might put out his eyes if he heard of this. 

“I supposed I ought to introduce myself.” Sora came face to face with the boy, flashing a dazzling, over bright smile. “My friends call me Sora.”

“There is no need. I am aware of who you are, Miss Kang.” Kyuhyun reverted to curt formality that could not be misconstrued, ignoring the outward of her hand.